Mit Reklaw’s Unentitled

Reckon I’m about done with lucky number 2013.

Week out from Christmas, a handful of weeks out from the end of the year and I feel as though I’ve already left the building…

On the topic of all things nonsensical, I do have to wonder what’s up with that heading – did I mean un-entitled, as in, “You jumped up little skid mark, you’re not entitled to that…”, or did I mean simply untitled, as in, “This particular piece of crap is not entitled anything because I couldn’t be arsed thinking of a title…” – because you do realise that ‘unentitled’ is not a real word, don’t you? I can see it now, looking all garish, embellished with its red underlining so I know that I’ve messed up…

I don’t have kids. Those who do might have experienced the astonishment, the horror; the outright disbelief of youthful entitlement – the grasping nature of children who believe that Christmas is a day put in place primarily to shower them with gifts.

I’m an atheist. Possibly there was a carpenter born today with flowing hair, tattered loin cloth and sandals, but I don’t worship him. Presumably neither do the kids tearing into their neatly wrapped presents with so much anticipative glee and a sense that they deserve everything that they receive on that fine December 25th

Shit. I don’t know if there was ever really a point to be made here and if there was, well, I seem to have failed to make it.

This is quite short because I didn’t make it quite long.

It didn’t really say anything because I didn’t really have anything to say.



Article by Mit Reklaw

Edited by Sash Rullidge

Photography by Bliss Feemy

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *